P a r a d i s e L o s t
by belladonnanroses
Summary: After sending Angel to Hell, Buffy hits the road in hope of finding meaning in her life. What she gets is one night in a alley with Spike which sends her on a journey to confront her greatest fear. Lyrics by Portishead, Sneaker Pimps, Billy Idol, A Perfec
1. Sex in an Alley

Author's Note: Story has been edited so as to not potentially violate any rules on Fanfiction.net. While I don't consider this story particularily gratuitious, I sure don't want to be responsible for sullying the pure minds of the children of American Parents. ('cause it's not like they don't have late night HBO anyway.) To see the full uncut story, which isn't too much longer please visit my website at http://www.gypsy-dreaming.net.  
  
'Oh, can't anybody see   
  
We've got a road to find   
  
Never find our way   
  
Regardless of what they say '   
  
We had sex in an alley.   
  
Messy, violent, dark, wet and damn good sex.   
  
It was me and Spike and two broken hearts. It was the rough wall scraping my back. It was the feeling of my shirt rubbing against my breasts and his jeans against my hips. It was the rain and the lack of hope and the feeling of his fingers bruising my skin.   
  
We had sex in an alley.   
  
And I when I think about it I don't remember feeling hungry or scared or lost. I don't rememer the dirt on my hair and face. I only remember his face in the crook of my neck, his movementd inside me, the chill of his needless breath on my skin.   
  
I remember my fingers in his hair on his tongue on my breast. I remember his eyes staring into mine and how I had to look away because I couldn't stand to look at those eyes that mirrored mine. I remember his rough hands pinned my wrists above my head. I remember his thrusts and my moans. I remember closing my eyes and losing myself in his scent and touch and presence.   
  
It was sex in an alley, and in a way I think we could blame it all on that one act. I think that we can trace all the love and the pain and the tears and the blood back to that one moment, when what was just supposed to be a meaningless fuck developed into something more.   
  
I had bruises on my back and hips and breasts. My lips swollen from his mouth and teeth. My underwear torn. But then I hadn't expected it to be flowers and sweetness and candle light. Hell, I hadn't even expected it to happen.   
  
Sex in an alley.   
  
And it changed everything. 


	2. Questions

'How can it feel this wrong   
  
From this moment, how can it feel this wrong ...'   
  
They don't talk in the car. She has her window down and the cool night air blows her blonde hair back. She's not wearing much, but she's not cold.   
  
He sits in the driver's seat, fingers tapping out the drum beat to 'White Wedding' without even thinking about it. He doesn't need to.   
  
She smokes a thin white cigarette and rests her head againt the seat of car. She can feel his eyes on her but she doesn't answer his unspoken questions. Doesn't question him back. They scare her, taunt her with what might happen if she had to answer them. If she answered she might be forced to shed her stoic mask and begin to heal. Begin to forget. She doesn't want to forget.   
  
She wants to remember Angel's mouth on hers, his hands on her body -- so gentle and different from Spike's touch -- she wants to remember his words, even the ones that hurt. Especially the ones that hurt. She likes to remember the way he looked when she slammed the sword into him, just like she savors the momory of him inside her.  
  
Masochist.  
  
He doesn't ask the questions. He lets them die in the back of his throat, his respect for the her and the fear that if he puts the questions to her she'll ask them right back are good deterrents. When it comes down to it, he's afraid of what he'll find if he digs around too deep, and that he'll be forced to explain things he can't. Like his reasons for taking her in that alley. As inexplicable as her reasons for letting herself be taken. He can't tell her why he opened the car door for her, and he can't tell her why she's here when Drusilla -- his black goddess -- isn't.  
  
The evening darkness fades and the horizon begins to burn a brilliant blue. She rolls the window up just as the first rays of the sun emerge. She hasn't slept in four days and she doesn't plan on starting now, she just stubs out her cigarette in the ash tray, leans back and closes her eyes, letting the pounding music wash over her.  
  
She doesn't open her eyes until Spike parks the car in front of a cheap motel. He hands her some folded twenties and instructs her to rent a room for the day.   
  
When they finally enter the dingy hotel room the only thought Buffy has is of getting to a shower and she walks with one mind towards the bathroom. Spike watches her silently before flopping down on one of the cheap chairs to wait. Niether of them has touched water since that night in the alley when it rained and they both still smell like dirty rain water, sex and nicotine.  
  
* * *  
  
Laying in bed is less conducive to sleep than she would've believed a few months ago. Buffy can feel the tears in her eyes as her memories haunt her. She can't escape his eyes or his whispered words. She can't erase the memory of her mother throwing the glass, of Willow and Giles and Xander. The tears are on her face now and they fall silently into the sheets. She turns on her side and lets out a muffled sob. Her body curls into a fetal position, the last three years flashing in front of her eyes.   
  
She barely notices when Spike's cold arm pulls her to his chest. She only becomes aware of it when his cool fingers begin to move through her hair, his rough voice whispering comforts into the dark night. And then the dam breaks and she can't stop the tears or the keening noises she makes. 7 days, 4 hours, 30 minutes, 7 seconds ...   
  
His arms tighten around her as she recites the numbers and he doesn't need to ask her what she means. 7 days, 4 hours, 30 minutes and 10 seconds ago his life changed too.   
  
The sobs are subsiding but she still grips his chest and he doesn't encourage her to let go. Her breath is warm on his cool skin and her breasts are pressed pleasently against him. His hand runs through her hair down to the curve of her neck before absently tracing patterns on her bare shoulder. Her eyes are already closed when they kiss.   
  
He kisses her hard, his tongue moving in and out of her mouth while his hands touch her everywhere, her own hands mimicking his movements. They don't speak. They don't debate over what this means. They don't even think about it. Each takes what the other has to offer, each seeking to lose themselves for a few moments in their partner.   
  
[ c e n s o r e d ]   
  
She shudders against him and presses their mouths together. 


	3. Cigarettes

'Stoned in the morning light   
  
I feel no more '   
  
When she wakes up she's not alone and the feeling is so unfamiliar that she has to fight down the urge to run away. His arm is tight around her and their limbs are still entwined. She doesn't move at all, terrified of waht might happen if she changed just one aspect of their embrace. Nervously, she lets him nuzzle against her, watching the occasional rise and fall of his chest. Reflex, she reminds herself, but it doesn't seem to matter.   
  
The grey dawn light seeps into the room from under the curtains. The room is cold and she shivers, causing him to move closer to her, murmurring her name into her hair. She feels a small, brief pang of happiness that he knows who he's sleeping with but it's followed by a wave of guilt when she remembers that w she knows who she was with too and that she forgot to be haunted.  
  
Spike stirs beside her and before she knows it she's looking into his face as he pins her to the bed. She can feel him hardening and a flush of arousal spreads through her body. He gives her his trademark smile and the dips down his head to capture her mouth in a kiss. Her eyes drift closed and she can feel his hands in her hair and on her breasts and stomach [ c e n s o r e d ].   
  
I need a smoke.   
  
The words surprise him and he tilts his head as a confused look forms on his face. Without offering an excuse she exits the bed and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind her. Spike hears the sound of running water through the paper thin walls.  
  
By the time she emerges he's pulled his jeans and is sitting at the table, smoking in the semi-darkness. The sunlight seeps into the room through the bottom of the curtains and for the first time in a while, she itches to feel it on her skin. Unsure of what to say to him, Buffy mvoes quickly past him to the door. He doesn't speak, just watches as she picks up her pack of cigarettes and heads out of the room.   
  
She doesn't come back until half the day has passed away. She carries a small shopping bag and he looks at it curiosly. She shrugs and reaches into the bag, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and tossing them carelessly to him, "I thought you might need these."  
  
He nods his thanks and places them in the pocket of his duster. She bought herself a new pack too and a little bit of food and he watches her intently as she unwraps the deli sandwich and takes a bite.  
  
She's ready to go by the time the sun sets. He pays the bill and leads her to the car, his voice is a whisper in her ear when he says, "I'll be right back."  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
He doesn't reply as he turns into the darkened street, leaving her alone with only the warmth of the DeSoto. When he comes back he doesn't mention what he did and she doesn't ask because she already knows. Some part of her screams for her to kill him and her figners itch to dig out the stake that she has hidden in her duffel bag and dust him. Another, deader part of herself, whispers for her to forget about it and concentrate on the feel of the night air on her face.  
  
She listens to the second voice.   
  
They drive all that night and well into the next day. By the time they stop they've crossed three state lines and heat is practically unbearable. Buffy jumps out of the car at the first chance she gets while Spike refills the gas tank. The night sky sparkles above her with millions of stars and the air is heavy and humid. To either side of her is land, stretching as far as she can see.  
  
When they get back in the car she asks, "Where are we going?"  
  
"New Orleans", he replies, his voice calm against the pounding music.   
  
She chuckles, "A little cliche don't you think?"  
  
He gives her a small smile, "Only if I was a soul-filled poofter like your ex."  
  
The mention of Angel knocks the breath out of her and for a moment all she can do is stare numbly at her hands. His face softens and his hand touches her arm tenatively, "I'm sorry, love."  
  
She nods but doesn't say anything. She just turns her gaze out the window focusing on the land that's passing them by. The air is thick with moisture and she sweats, barely even noticing the tear that rolls down her face and hits the pavement that they whizz by on. 


	4. Sexual Healing

'Can you see   
  
Frozen to myself   
  
I get nobody on my side   
  
Surely that ain't right'   
  
It's almost daylight on the third day when they check into the hotel. It isn't much and Spike tells her that it isn't for long, just until he calls in a favor about an apartment. She just nods and goes to take a shower.   
  
Much later that night, when she lies in the crook of his arms, his fingers tracing patterns on her back through her thin cotton tank top, he begins to ask her the questions, "What happenned to Angel, love?"  
  
Buffy stiffens then shoots back, "What happenned to Drusilla?"  
  
Spike draws in an unneeded breath and for a moment she thinks that he's going to yell at her, or drop the subject, or turn away. But he doesn't, "She headed towards Brazil."  
  
"Oh."  
  
They sit in silence for a while longer and the only interruption is they steady beat of her heart. His chest moves up and down against her back on ingrained reflex. She kisses his chest, and then the hollow of his neck. Her lips pass across his eyelids and his cheek and his mouth. The kisses are tender and full of sadness. Close your eyes, she thinks the words and her her eyes sting. She pulls away from him and her hands are trembling, "I killed him."  
  
He doesn't answer. He knows that there's nothing he can tell her to make that all right. It's a permanent scar. He just holds her as she shakes in his arms. He's torn between feeling happiness at his sire's demise and sympathy for the young woman in his arms. She nuzzles him and then, without warning, she begins to speak, "There was nothing else to do. He'd already opened the portal and -- and I couldn't just turn my back on the world for him. Especially since he'd caused it. So, so I did it. I -- I told him to close his eyes. I kissed him. I told him, I told him that I loved him. And then I ran the sword through him."  
  
She pauses and he tightens his hold on her, silently encouraging her to talk. The silence stretches on, seconds passing that seemed like hours, "I think the worst part was the way he looked at me, y'know? His eyes ... And -- and he didn't even know."  
  
And then she was in his arms and the tears were falling and staining the smooth skin of his chest and slipping into his open mouth. She hears him whispering her name and his hand strokes the back of her head. She begins to calm down and he pulls her up to him and kisses her on the mouth, his tongue brushing gently against her lips.  
  
She melts into him as the guilt lifts and she becomes lost in the paths of his body. The way his fingers trace the nerves of her skin mesmerizes her. The things he whispers things that get lost in the shadows of the dinky hotel room are haunting.  
  
[ c e n s o r e d ] They whisper sweet nothing's into each other's skin and she feels herself slipping way from the world once more, losing herself in the depths of Spike's eyes. She kisses the faded bite marks on his neck, kisses his mouth and his hair and his chest. Her nails scratch his stomach and he moans her name, shudders against her [ c e n s o r e d ] She screams his name and he answers.  
  
'Surely that ain't right'   
  
"Somehow I don't think that how you planned for that to end."  
  
He smiles at her, and it's the first real smile either one of them has had since May. She can't help but smile back.   
  
"Not quite what I was planning, love, but I'm not one to complain."  
  
His voice sends shudders down her body, and she remembers how it had been an hour ago, soft and hard all at once. Buffy nods her silent agreement and continues to trace patterns on his stomach with her fingers. His hand brushes the hair away from her face and drapes it over her neck. Buffy sighs and presses a quick kiss to the palm of his hand, "I never really thought it would be like this."  
  
"Never thought what would be like this, pet?"  
  
She moved her hands from his stomach long enough to make air quotations, "The Morning After."  
  
He laughs, "Well, I've definitly had some where I was happy to have my parts still intact."  
  
Buffy blushes a little and he lets out another chuckle, his fingers tracing a delicate path up and down her spine.   
  
They sit there for a while longer, each enjoying the other's silence, each reflecting on how far they've come together and what they left behind. Buffy sighs and moves next him, pulling the sheets tighter around them.   
  
"I need to go out, pet."  
  
The words hit her like a ton of bricks and she doesn't answer, she just continues to play with the fine hair at the back of his neck. He sighs and then pulls away from the bed and gets dressed slowly. She watches him without really seeing him. He moves back to the bed and presses a kiss to her forehead. Her hands wrap around his neck and she pulls him closer, she whispers a plea against his mouth for him to stay.   
  
Spike sighs and shakes his head, "I have to eat, pet."  
  
She turns away from him then, bare shoulders squaring, "But you don't have to kill."  
  
He considers that for a moment while he watches her. Eventually she turns back to face him and it brooks no argument. He knows that either he gives in on this or he leaves. At the thought of leaving her a familiar pang shoots through him and a growl builds low in his throat. He was back on top of her before either could register what was happenning. His hands pin her wrists to the mattress while he kisses her savagely. Finally, he pulls away, letting her come up for air. He nods his assent and she manages a small smile.   
  
He was gone before she could say anything else.   
  
'How can it feel this wrong   
  
From this moment, how can it feel this wrong' 


	5. Forgetting

'Delusional   
  
I believe I can cure it all for you, dear   
  
Coax or trick or drive or   
  
Drag the demons from you'   
  
Buffy walked silently through the early morning streets of the French Quarter. It was cold, everything overhung with a gray mist that seemed to seep right through her bulky sweater. She'd left Spike sleeping in the bed, hugging the pillow like it could be her. She smiles a little as she remembers how innocent he'd looked holding it, but the smile fades as she realizes he's anything but.   
  
Coffee and a smoke, she decides, coffee and a smoke would make everything seem a lot better. She turns the courner and finds hereslf face to face with a green and white stripped canopy. The sign reads Cafe DuMonde and she seats herself at on of the small tables, picking up a menu.  
  
Two cups of chickory coffee and a plate of beignet later and she feels a lot better. She pays the bill and exits the cafe onto the busy morning streets. Pulling a cigarette out of her purse she walks past the iron gates of Jackson Square towards the Mississippi. The nicotine floods her system and she lets out a grateful sigh. The morning has heated up and she wraps her sweater around her waist, savoring the feel of the sunlight on her flesh.   
  
She finally reaches a Plaza with a view of the Mississipi and she takes a seat on the edge of an antiquated fountain enjoying the view. She's missed this, she realizes. The sight of the sun and the sounds of the people walking by as they go about their daily buisness tug at her heartstrings, begging her to get up and join them. She could lose herself foever in these crowds. An old woman pauses and smiles at her, prompting her to smile back.  
  
"Yep", she thought, "I could get to like this place."  
  
The sun rose steadily higher in the sky as she sat there, watching the muddy river flow. Finally, she dropped the cigarette and crushed it beneath her heel before making her way back towards the hotel.   
  
He was still laying in the bed, his eyelashes making shadowy crescents on his pale face. She smiled and pressed a kiss to his temple. He shifted and opened his eyes, smiling up at her.   
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hey back."  
  
They stared at each other for a while, just enjoying the stillness. Finally, Spike reached out for her and drewsher to him, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Buffy sighed and relaxed into his embrace, letting sleep overtake her. She feels him pressing light butterfly kisses along her jugular and for a moment it flashes in her head that he could kill her now if he wanted to and she wouldn't stop him.  
  
Buffy pushes the thought back down and drops a kiss on his shoulder before drifitng off to sleep.   
  
It was becoming so easy to forget.   
  
Spike listened as her breathing slowed to a soft rythymic pace. He heard the steady beat of her heart, the pulsing of her blood in her viens and all he wanted to do was kiss her. Inwardly he berated himself for having fallen this low. It became apparent to him that the Slayer had ceased to be a good fuck and was actually a person to him. A woman person nonetheless. A woman person that he felt very much like he was falling in love with.  
  
He sighed and shifted so that he was half on top of her. Sod it all, he thought to himself and pressed another kiss to her cheek before closing his eyes.   
  
He had just drifted off when she began to scream. 


	6. Nightmares

'Make it right for you sleeping beauty   
  
Truly thought   
  
I can magically heal you '   
  
She runs in the dark. She doesn't know what she's running from or where she was running too, doesn't know if she's scared. The only thing she knows is that she has to keep on running. She can't stop.   
  
The darkness closes in on her and it's hard to breathe. She stumbles, and runs straight into a hard chest.  
  
And then she's on the ground, her hands landing in a sticky substance with a plop. She barely notices herself sinking into the muck because he stands before her. Him with his large brown eyes and spiked brown hair and that familiar sardonic grin on his face. He steps forward and she moves backwards.  
  
Close your eyes.  
  
The words bounce around the darkness, echoing. She can't force her lips to form his name, can't even sound it out in her mind. The others walk up behind him, Giles and Willow and Xander and her Mom, all of them glaring at her with accusing eyes.  
  
Drusilla comes last and she dances as she nears the Slayer, her feet and skin stained dark red from the floor. She dances and twirls around them, moving closer and closer until she stops in front of Buffy and holds out her red palms, "You can't ever wash it off."  
  
And then Buffy looks at her pristine, trembling hands, and sees that they're soaked with blood. That was when she started to scream.   
  
* * *  
  
She screams until her throat is raw and she can taste the blood in her mouth from where she bit her tongue. She screams even after she has woken up, her face buried in his chest, his trembling arms around her, his voice rough with worry. She screams until it's no longer screaming and just the broken cries of a wounded animal. She screams until she can't see Angel in her head anymore.   
  
Close your eyes.  
  
She sits up and places her hands on his face, holding his gaze. His sea grey eyes look at her worriedly, wanting some reassurance that she's not going to snap. But she doesn't give him that, she just leans in close so that her breath is warming his cold skin and her hands still hold his face to hers on either side. She moves in so that their noses are pressing into each other and she can feel his hand tightening around her waist, and the only thing she can say to him is, "12 days, 16 hours, 59 minutes, 36 seconds."   
  
'You're far beyond a visible   
  
Sign of your awakening   
  
Failing miserably to rescue   
  
Sleeping Beauty'   
  
He doesn't say anything. He just holds her as she counts out the time to the chipped plaster walls. The sun fades in the sky and night sets in, but he doesn't leave. He removes her dress carefully before tossing it to the floor. He wraps his cold arms around her and pulls the sheets around them both. He doesn't bother asking her what she dreamt about because he knows she won't tell and because he already knows that it had to do with Angel and what took place in that mansion on the outskirts of Sunnydale 12 days, 19 hours, 32 minutes and 45 seconds ago.  
  
Finally she turns to him and slips and arm around his waist, "I almost forgot."  
  
He nods, understanding, watching as she chews on her lower lip, "You'll forget again."  
  
She stops the chewing and moves her large eyes to his, he trembles and tightens his grip, murmuring something against her warm skin. She speaks again and her voice is childlike, "When?"  
  
He doesn't say anything because he doesn't have an answer for her. She sighs, accepting, her hands curling through his bleached hair before moving down to caress the base of his neck. Her breasts are pressed against him and he can feel himself hardening, but he doesn't want to rush her. He contents himself with stroking her stomach, his fingers dipping down her panty line every once in a while  
  
She flings one tanned leg over him and then moves so that she's straddling him, her panty covered crotch rubbing against his hardness. He can't contain the moan that slips past his lips as he says her name. She leans down, her naked breasts tantalizingly close to his mouth, her hair tickling his neck and face. She kisses him hard and says, "I need you."  
  
[ c e n s o r e d ] 


	7. Our Home

'Sleeping Beauty   
  
Poisoned and hopeless   
  
You're far beyond a visible   
  
Sign of your awakening'   
  
Weeks pass and she still dreams. The only difference is that this time she wakes up before she starts screaming.  
  
The streets are crowded at night ans she shudders, her eyes searching for Spike. She knows that he's out there somewhere, making someone his meal, but he promises her that he doesn't kill them and she doesn't have it in her to not believe him. She hopes that she'll never have to.  
  
He's beside her in a moment, with his trademark smirk and swagger, such a different person from the one that pushed her against the alley wall and took her while crying his tears into the hollow her neck. He's not the broken man that she ran into in May, drunk and sobbing for lost love. She gives him a brief smile and he kisses her lightly before grabbing her own small hand in his, and moving her down the crowded street.  
  
They have an aparatment now, a small place on Chartes Street. It's near everything and she likes it, the noise and the dirt and danger. In a way it reminds her of Sunnydale. He takes her towards Decatur St. and they enter Coop's Place. She has a cigarette and an omlette, and he downs his beer.  
  
They don't talk much. She eats and he watches. When it's time to leave he pays the bill and they head back out into the busy night.  
  
* * *  
  
It's well past midnight when he sits beside her on the stairs of St. Louis Cathedral. She likes to come here at night and smoke and he doesn't like for her to be alone, so he follows. They still don't say a word, their hands growing clammy from the mist. It's August now and Summer's almost over. The nights are painfully hot and she sweats profusely, small glistening drops that make a trail across her soft skin and dip below the line of her tank top out of his line of vision.  
  
She leans against him, grateful that he's no longer wearing the duster, just a cotton shirt open at the neck. She never would have pegged him for one to wear blue, but it brings out the color in his eyes so she doesn't mention it for fear that he might revert back to his standard black. Besides, it's such a dark blue it could almost pass for black. Almost. If you were colorblind.  
  
Finally she breaks the silence when she's had her third cigarette of the night, and the bustling main street seems father away, "We have a life here."  
  
He nods, and his fingers trail down her neck. His voice is throaty in the stillness, "Yea, pet. We do."  
  
She doesn't say anything and for a few minutes he thinks she's going to pull out another cigarette, "It's not like the ones we had before."  
  
He swallows and she turns in his arms to face him, her hair is stuck to her face and neck in places where it escaped from her ponytail and her hands are moist on his arms. For a minute she seems like she's going to kiss him and he leans forward in anticipation, but she just brushes her fingertips across his mouth and asks, "Do you miss it?"  
  
The question floors him and he struggles for a few minutes to find an answer, "Sometimes."  
  
"Oh."  
  
He's silent for a while, his hand trailing up and down her arms and she revels in the cool sensation against her heated skin, "Do you?"  
  
"Sometimes."  
  
"You should call them."  
  
She pulls away when he says that and he watches her face close up like a pair of shutters. She's facing the other way now but he can tell what he said to her made an impact, so he says it again.  
  
She shakes her head and he lets it go, but he knows that she won't be able to forget it easily. He drops a cool kiss on the side of her neck and she shudders in remembered pleasure. His blunt human teeth are on her earlobe and he suggests, "Let's go home."  
  
Both of them know that he doesn't mean Sunnydale.   
  
'Poisoned and hopeless   
  
Sleeping Beauty' 


	8. Home

'I'm on a train, but there's no one at the helm   
  
And there's a demon in my brain that starts to overwhelm   
  
And there it goes, my last chance for peace   
  
I lay me down, but I get no release'   
  
She stares at the phone for the remainder of the night. When the darkness finally lifts and gray dawn peeks in from between the curtains she leaves the bed and her sleeping lover, and pads quietly over to the table where it sits.  
  
She doesn't bother to get dressed, she just lifts the reciever, hesitates, and dials the number that she knows by heart. It rings. Once. Twice. And then a groggy voice answers and her heart is in her throat. She can barely make out the name, "Giles."  
  
There's a pause and then he says her name and she's flooded with relief. She wants to cry, to rest her head on his chest and feel the texture of his tweed and smell the scent of aftershave and books and tea that he always seems to radiate, but she can't do that, so she just says, "Yea."  
  
And now it's his turn to pause and she wonders if he's thinking the same things, or if he's just trying to control himself before he rips into her. She's scared now and almost hangs up the phone when Spike's arms wrap around her and pull her against his chest. He looks at her and seems to tell her that it's going to be all right. So she doesn't put down the reciever.  
  
And then the pause ends and Giles' voice is carrying across the telephone lines and he's telling her how mad he is, how worried he's been, how much he loves her, how she has to come home --  
  
And she cuts him off, "I can't."  
  
There's silence on his end now and she doesn't doubt that this time it's an angry one. Then his voice is back and it's short and terse and it says things to her that she never thought she'd have to hear again, "It's unfortunate that you believe that you 'can't' return to Sunnydale, but I'm afraid you have no other choice. It appears that Angelus has returned."  
  
The phone falls out of her fingers and hits the carpet. She barely notices when Spike picks it up and hangs it back in the reciever. She turns to stare at him and she's shaking. He pulls her to him and reaches for the cigarette pack with his extra hand. He lights one easily and takes a long drag before handing it to her. She does the same and leans her head against his chest, the cigarette burning in her fingers.  
  
Finally he tilts her head up to face him and his eyes are flashing yellow, she can hear the vampire in his voice even though she can't see the demon in his face, "Let's go put the bloody wanker in the ground for good."  
  
She nods and then they're in a flurry of motion. Dressing, packing, cigarettes? -- check -- they're done in record time and Spike is loading the car as Buffy sticks her key in the lock of the apartment door and turns it. The click is loud and seems forebodingly final to her. For a minute she stares at the darkened windows of their apartment and thinks of the time they spent there.  
  
Her mind drifts to the late nights in Jackson Park, the food and the occasional dancing. She thinks of Spike bringing her home last night and the way they almost made love against the door of the building. She remembers the hot days and humid nights. She remembers lighting all the candles in their bedroom and just lying with him in the afterglow, skin on skin. She remembers the way her name sounded oh his tongue when it bounced off the walls of their bedroom and how now, everything reminds her of him.  
  
It's painful to realizes just how much they've made this place home.  
  
Spike steps up behind her and wraps his arms around her, staring at the building with a knowing smile on his face, "We'll be back, love. I promise."  
  
She gives him a weak smile and he pulls her to him, kissing her roughly, his tongue in her mouth, her hands under his shirt, and then he pulls away, "Let's go get us a spot of violence."  
  
'I try to keep awake, I try to swim beneath,   
  
But still I find this narcolepsy slides   
  
Into another nightmare' 


	9. The Journey Backwards

'And there's a demon in my head who starts to play   
  
A nightmare tape loop of what went wrong yesterday   
  
And I hold my breath 'till it's more than I can take   
  
And I close my eyes and dream that I'm awake'   
  
It's like taking the journey to where they were backwards. They still don't talk in the car. He plays the Ramones and she leans out the window, the landscape whizzing by, a half smoked cigarette in her hand. Sometimes they smile at each other, the knowing smile of lovers or the 'sod it all' smile of people who've been through hell and back together, and are plunging in again for another round.  
  
It's like taking the journey to where they were backwards. They still don't talk in the car. He plays the Ramones and she leans out the window, the landscape whizzing by, a half smoked cigarette in her hand. Sometimes they smile at each other, the knowing smile of lovers or the 'sod it all' smile of people who've been through hell and back together, and are plunging in again for another round.  
  
The part of her mind that knows what it's about laughs at her and she turns everything off.   
  
Spike taps with his fingers on the wheel, the chipped black nail polish chipping more with the pressure. He doesn't seem to notice and Buffy notes that she painted those nails for him three days ago with a bottle of cheap lacquer they bought for a dollar at the local K-Mart.   
  
The night spins past them and then the large orb of the sun rises and she puts her window up. They don't stop and they barely even give it a thought. There's only one thing on their mind. Vengeance.   
  
Buffy tips her head back and inhales the scent of dried blood, alcohol, nicotine, sex and leather that she's come to associate with the DeSoto and Spike.   
  
Finally Spike pulls over after noon and turns to face Buffy, his voice dead serious, "Get out."  
  
She pauses, blinks and double takes, "What?"  
  
He sighs and stops the ignition, "Get out of the bloody car and come over to my side, you're gonna drive for a bit."  
  
She does as she tells him, feeling the white hot fear that had built up in the pit of her stomach fading away. She slides into his spot and sees that Spike's already taken her side, and full advantage of the reclining seat. He turns and opens one eye at her smiling. She feels the urge to hit him, but she only pokes him before pulling him close and kissing him.   
  
"Just try to drive straight, love, and not to hit anything," he says when they pull apart. She nods and starts the car.  
  
She pushes the accelerator and watches as the speed dial passes 60, and then 80 and then she's doing 100 and the world seems to be fading away and all she can think is that she's flying and it's wonderful. Spike laughs and she turns up the radio as they whizz by on deserted highways, watching the red sun sink below the horizon as she speeds towards it.  
  
When Spike takes the car back he kills the engine before leaning into Buffy and kissing her tenderly, his fingers rubbing circles on her face while she whispers his name against his throat. She can feel him shiver and her hands run up and down his chest. He lets out a small groan and she grins impishly at him. She nibbles on his earlobe and whispers, "I've never had sex in a car."  
  
That's all it takes for him to push his seat back and prop her on his lap, and then they're kissing like there's no tomorrow. Eyes and teeth and hands and tongues meeting each other again and again. [ c e n s o r e d ]  
  
He trails his mouth to meet hers and she's take it hungrily. His voice is throaty as he whispers against her cheek, "Open your eyes."  
  
She does and she almost lets out another cry at the emotions she sees there. The color has darkened to a deep blue and they capture hers without a fight. He leans in again and kisses her, eyes wide open, "I want you to see me."  
  
She kisses him back and [ c e n s o r e d ] says, "I do."  
  
And then they both explode.   
  
'I try to keep awake   
  
I try to keep awake ...   
  
How'd you like to be alone and drowning?   
  
How'd you like to be alone and drowning?   
  
How'd you like to be alone and drowning?' 


	10. There

'Metaphor for a missing moment   
  
Pull me into your perfect circle   
  
One womb, One shape, One resolve'   
  
They reached Sunnydale at nightfall on the fourth day. Spike plowed through the 'Welcome to Sunnydale' sign, surprised by the sound of Buffy's laughter. She hadn't spoken for the entire journey, much less laughed, and he had begun to fear that she would sink back into the dead shell that she had been all those months ago.  
  
He speeds down the empty city streets, towards the more seedy section of town and pulls to a stop before a tumbledown, white-washed hotel. They go in together, duffel bags in their hands, their fingertips touching.   
  
"We should go see Giles", she says after they've gotten the room. He's not too eager to see the Watcher and he knows that she isn't either, but they both know that they have to do it, so they head towards the door.  
  
"Wait", he says and she turns to look at him. He holds a bundle in his hands and he places it in hers, she notices that he looks almost shy and files it away for later information. She lets the bundle open and smiles at the leather duster in her hands.   
  
He shrugs at her thanks and says, "I thought you could use it. Goes with the cigarettes and black eyeliner you've been sportin'."  
  
She smiles at him and can tell that he's pleased. She slips it one and says, "Perfect fit."  
  
The subtlety in her sentence isn't lost on him and he swallows before brushing his fingers through her hair and dipping his face down to hers for a kiss.   
  
When they finally pull apart she takes a moment to get her breath and her eyes are glassy with arousal. Her voice echoes huskily aroudn the cheap room, "If we don't go now we'll never leave."  
  
He smiles and places another kiss on her face, "Consider the coat your birthday present for the next five years."  
  
She laughs and they join hands, walking out of the hotel room with determination in their step.  
  
* * *  
  
The streets of Sunnydale are quieter than either of them remembers, and they wonder just how much damage has been done in their absence. There's guilt on her face and he squeezes her hand reassuringly.   
  
A block from the library they run into a group of vamps. They pause for a moment, over swept by a sense of deja-vu before they exchange a silent signal and dive into THE fight. They roll and spin and kick and punch and soon the vampires are dust in the wind around them. Her cheeks are flushed and he pulls her to him as soon as the fight is over, devouring her mouth with his and she responds in kind, wrapping her arms round his neck and rubbing against his arousal.  
  
"We have to go", she pulls away from him reluctantly and they move down the remainder of the streets, laughing and touching and kissing until the doors of Sunnydale High loom before them and the smiles die from their faces and eyes.   
  
She squares her shoulders and he sticks his hands in his pocket, "Are you ready for this?"  
  
She nods, "Ready as I'll ever be."  
  
And then they step into the echoing hallways. 


	11. Echoes

'Liberate this will   
  
To release us all'   
  
Their footsteps pound in her ears and each one contains the hollow echo of her past. A thousand laughs and tears and fragments of dust are in their footsteps. The memory of a thousand blood stains and a thousand moments of broken-hearted love weigh heavy on their minds as they approach the library doors.  
  
Her hands are shaking and she wants a smoke. She knows Spike does too because of the way his fingers tap aimlessly against her arm.   
  
The library doors are still thirty paces away and she slows down, not wanting to hurry her journey. For a moment, she flashes back to running down these same deserted hallways, trying to beat the clock, trying to save Kendra's life. Failing miserably. Her hand reaches out and she intertwines her fingers with his.   
  
Fifteen paces left to the doorway and she can see the light shining out of the round plexi glass windows and under the crack of the door. If she tries she can hear their voices and she makes out Willow's nervous laughter and one of Xander's snide remarks. She hears more sounds and the voice of her mother wafts down the hall to meet them at ten paces away.   
  
That sound almost stops her and Spike has to physically help her make the last leg of the journey. But her knees are shaking too bad for her to stand and he lets her pause outside the doors.   
  
She can see them now through the little round windows and they're in full research mode, twinkies and everything. She turns to look at Spike and he smiles at her despite the worry in his eyes. He's anxious too and they both think that perhaps they should deal with it on their own and not see the others, but they both know that's not possible.   
  
Her fingers come up to caress his face in that familiar way she has that makes his knees go weak and he turns his face into her caress, kissing the rough palm of her hand. They stare at each other and for a moment they make themselves believe that it will be all right. He presses a fluttering kiss to her wrist and she smiles before pulling away and placing her hand on the door.  
  
He stops her before she pushes it open, his hand on her arm, and she turns to look at him with the unspoken question in her eyes. He swallows nervously and rakes one hand through his hair, before his voice, thick with emotion says, "We still have our home, love."  
  
She smiles at this and lets him kiss her before they turn and push open the doors and becoma a swirl of leather and danger as they enter the room, nothing but confidence on their faces, their hands joined.   
  
Everyone turns to look at them and she hears Giles' pen drop, Willow's 'eep' and her Mother's voice whispering her name. But the loudest sound in the room comes from Xander who stands, fire in his eyes, finger pointing at them, "Kill her! She's a vampire!"  
  
Spike tenses and steps protectively behind Buffy, and he notices the way her eyes narrow dangerously at the boy.   
  
There's a long silence and no one moves.   
  
And then Joyce is across the room, tears in her voice as she wraps Buffy in a bear hug, apologizing into her daughter's hair, clutching at the Slayer so hard that if she'd been a normal seventeen year old she would have broken.  
  
For a while there's only the sound of Joyce crying and Buffy cooing comforting things into her ears. And then Giles steps forwards and embraces her too. And then comes Willow.  
  
Xander hangs back, eyeing her suspiciously, Cordelia by his side. Oz comes next and he shakes hands with Buffy, watching Spike curiously and sniffing the air around him before giving the vampire a knowing look and returning to stand by Willow, who can barely breathe through her happiness.  
  
And finally Xander comes forward and hugs Buffy tentatively, glaring at Spike the entire time. But the vampire doesn't take any notice, he just presses his hand familiarly on the small of Buffy's back and Xander moves away, too angry and confused to speak. 


	12. Visitors

'Gotta cut away, clear away   
  
Snip away and sever this   
  
Umbilical residue that's   
  
Keeping me from killing you '   
  
There's some silence after the pause and Spike's reflexive gesture of playing with Buffy's hair doesn't go unnoticed by the others. But none of them seem to know how to broach the subject. Finally, Giles clears his throat and take off his glasses to clean them.  
  
"So I suppose that at some point in the night you are going to tell us what you are doing here with Spike?"  
  
Buffy turns to look at the vampire who has stopped mid-way in twirling her blonde hair around his finger. They don't speak, they just look at each other and then she turns back to the others and says, "We're here to take care of Angel."  
  
"Shouldn't you be taking out Dead Boy Jr as well?"  
  
Xander's words are laced with hate and a low growl forms in the back of Spike's throat. Buffy makes no move to stop him, she just turns her stare on the boy coldly and says in a flat voice, "Wasn't there something you were supposed to tell me that night? And not 'Willow said to kick his ass'."  
  
Willow lets out a gasp and the room is silent except for Xander who's sputtering now, red in the face, "How did you-"  
  
"I'm not stupid."  
  
Her voice is dangerous and the others shuffle silently, unable to defend Xander or to understand the Buffy that walked in the door. Finally it's Giles' turn to speak again, "I think we should all deal with the immediate subject."  
  
Spike and Buffy give him a curt nod and she says, "So what's the what? Do we know just how he was brought back exactly?"  
  
"Well, it appears that he was sent back."  
  
"Sent back."  
  
Buffy moves the words over in her mouth again and she can't stop the bitter laugh that escapes her lips, "How'd that happen?"  
  
"We have a few theories. The most plausible one has to do with ho-how you actually, actually --"  
  
"Killed him?" Her voice is harsh and Giles nods.   
  
Buffy closes her eyes in remembrance and Spike's hand strokes her arm in a gesture of support, she opens her eyes and manages to give him a fading smile, "I stabbed him with the sword." There's a pause and she adds, "He had his soul."  
  
Giles gets a look on his face that says Eureka and Willow looks at Buffy in sympathy.   
  
"Of course! The hell dimension that he was sent to wouldn't accept his physical and souled body! They want an unsouled Angelus to act as their messenger in the other worlds, since a souled one would never serve them. They must have discovered some way to remove his soul and somehow that ended up sending him back here, without a soul, and with a, well, rather large portion of rage."  
  
Buffy nodded dumbly, "That explains things."  
  
There's another pause and then she turns to face Spike, "Well lets go kill him."  
  
He gives her a knowing smirk, "Can't, love, the sun will be in less than an hour."  
  
She nods and chews on her bottom lip, "Fine. let's get back to the hotel then, we can handle this tomorrow."  
  
They turn to leave but Buffy's mother stops them with a firm, "You're not going anywhere."  
  
Neither of them turns to face her as she moves towards them. She turns Buffy around and her voice is fierce, "You are my daughter! And I will not having you running around with men that I don't even know!"   
  
"Actually", Xander volunteers from his corner, "he's not a man."  
  
And then all hell breaks loose and everyone is yelling, Xander struggling to be heard above the others. His eyes are blazing with an inner light as he approaches her and placing himself between her and her Mom, he sticks his finger at her chest, "You're not the person I thought you were! You're no hero! You're just a vampire whore who can't make time with a living man, and can only get herself off with dead things!"  
  
And then he's flying across the room, blood pouring from his nose and a cut on his mouth. Cordelia shrieks and rushes to him, helping him off the floor.  
  
The two blondes are staring at him and he can't say which one had hit him first. Spike stands vamped out besides Buffy and she drops into a fighting stance, her eyes glittering dangerously. But the boy doesn't take the hint and keeps on talking despite the blood pouring from his nose.  
  
"You sicken me! You're no better than the things you kill! How you can think that you can just come home --"  
  
But he doesn't finish because Spike is picking him up from the floor by his neck and shakes Xander like a rag doll, his voice falls dangerously low as he says, "You aren't her home." And then Buffy is beside him, her hand on his arm and he drops Xander to the floor.  
  
"He's right", and her voice is no longer angry, just sad, "This isn't my home anymore. I've -- I've built a new home."  
  
Her hand slips into Spike's and she continues, "I'm not staying. And I think that when I do go home, I can be what ever I want. I can love whom ever I want. And I think Xander Harris, that you don't have any say in that."  
  
And then they turn and walk away, hands still joined, and no one has the voice left to say anything to stop them. 


	13. Making Love

They walk back to the hotel in silence.   
  
When they enter the door of their room, Buffy heads for their shower but he stops her. She doesn't turn to face him and he moves her to him slowly. He cups her face in his hands and he can see the tear tracks on her face and the ones still threatening to spill over her eyes.  
  
He kisses her softly, "Don't listen to what that boy says."  
  
She doesn't respond and he grips her harder, "You're perfect. In every way. Everything about you is poetry."  
  
She smiles and then leans forwards to kiss him, "You're not a dead thing."  
  
Her voice is fierce and he kisses her again and again and again. Their moans of pleasure fill the room and her eyes close as he kisses the base of her throat, the hollow of her neck, the space just between her breasts where her skin smells like cinnamon and clover. Her hands move over his back and shoulders and torso and they fall back on the bed, his mouth covers her body and her voice calls out his name while her hot hands wrap around him.  
  
Skin on skin and they're both sweating as their sheets wrap around them and the head board bangs into the wall.   
  
She's under him and around him and inside him and he's doing the same thing to her. They're panting and he's whispering against her neck, "Stay, don't listen to them, you're mine, mine, mine, mine, mine ... "  
  
And she answers, her voice low with passion, "Yes, yes, yes, yours, only yours, you're home, don't go, don't leave, you're home, so alive ... "  
  
[ c e n s o r e d ]  
  
Her skin, her blood, her sweat, all flood him and he can feel her convulse into her second orgasm of the night as he drinks her, and then, before he can take too much, he pulls away and licks the wounds clean. She's peaceful now and he whispers against the flesh of her neck, "I love you."  
  
There's silence for a while and then a whisper, so silent that they almost don't hear it, "I love you."  
  
He squeezes her tightly and kisses her mouth tenderly, her arms and body open to him like a flower and they pass the afterglow in each other's bodies once again, and again and again into the long day.   
  
"I love you."  
  
'Give me   
  
One more medicated peaceful moment   
  
One more medicated peaceful moment' 


	14. Dancing

'Run desire run   
  
Sexual being   
  
Run him like a blade   
  
To and through the heart '   
  
They move through the streets with grim determination. It ends tonight for them, and they both know that it will be the night of a thousand truths. She smokes her cigarette nervously and he takes it from her occasionally to have a drag. When she sees the others she takes one last breath of nicotine before dropping the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out.  
  
The others wait for them in front of the looming mansion, none of them looking comfortable with the situation. Buffy notes, with a sigh of relief, that her mother is absent. They don't say anything to her about the cigarette they saw her put out, and they avoid looking at Spike's hand around her waist, his fingers drifting down to her thigh.  
  
"You guys know what to do?"  
  
They nod.   
  
"Good. Then let's go do it."  
  
They move into the mansion and the door slams closed behind them, trapping them in darkness. Stealthily, they continue down the corridor into the main room that opens into a stone atrium. There, surrounded by twenty vampires, stand Angelus, his eyes glinting with hatred. The vampires bristle and move forward.  
  
He smirks at Buffy and Spike, but the venom in his eyes bellies the carelessness of the gesture. His voice is stone when he says, "Kill them."  
  
The vampires rush all at once and no one wastes any time in plunging into the fray. Spike lands punch after punch on his opponents and Buffy cleanly stakes every vampire that comes her way. The Scoobies struggle but manage to hold their own against the horde.  
  
Then, just when the vampires are thinning down, a new batch of them pours down into the room from every direction and the fight turns desperate. The Scoobies stake and fall and punch and spray and burn without stopping, their actions automatic despite their growing exhaustion.  
  
Finally, the tide turns again in their favor. Relief is evident on all their faces and when Buffy dusts the last vampire they all sigh audibly. She turns around slowly with exhaustion only to find Angelus standing before her in vamp face.  
  
'No conscience'   
  
"Hello, lover."  
  
"How was hell?"  
  
He hits her and she stumbles back, but she quickly falls into her battle stance before he comes at her again. She's ready for him now and catches the kick in midair, dishing out one of her own. The others surge forward and immediately fall back when she raises her hand in mid air to stope them. Their fight takes them across the room and away from the others. Despite her earlier signal Spike makes way towards them but five vampires appear before him, each more eager than the other to have a taste of the wayward childe's flesh.  
  
Angelus and Buffy fight brutally, with teeth and words and fists and legs. They dance with each other, only the movements aren't fluid. The dance isn't beautiful to the onlooker, it's merely broken and angry.   
  
Finally, he gets the upper hand and before Buffy knows it he's propelling her backwards into a small room and the door locks behind him with an ominous click.   
  
She doesn't let that stop her though and she flings herself at Angelus, her nails scratching the tender skin around his eyes. He lets out a bellow of rage and his hand hits her face with an unprecedented force and she crashes into the wall, stunned. Seeing his advantage his wastes no time in picking her up and banging her head into the wall again and again.   
  
She finally manages to wrench herself free and she stumbles backwards, hitting the ground. He moves towards her and only then does she see the long curved knife in his hand. She fumbles for her stake and finds it under the table. But as her fingers wrap around the wood, he lifts her up and holds the blade of his knife to her throat.   
  
His tongue traces a path along the side of her face and she can feel his arousal pressing into her thigh through the leather of his pants. She shudders as his tongue is replace by his fangs, lightly scraping her skin.   
  
The blade is pressed against her neck and she can feel her skin tearing slowly. She closes her eyes and swallows, fighting back the tears. Wuthout warning he throws her to the floor and moves on top of her before she can fully register the feel of his body crushing her, his hard hands on her breasts, pinning her hands over her head as hee stake rolls away from her.  
  
"Payback." He laughs as he says it and his hand is under her shirt and in her pants and she hears him unzipping.   
  
And then there's the thud of a body being thrown against the thick wood door and Spike's voice cries out, "Buffy!" 


	15. Over

'One Motive'   
  
Spike throws himself at the door, and the wood bends inward. His voice is desperate and he can smell the Slayer's fear and anger as well as Angelus' arousal. One more lunge, the door crashes in and he follows.   
  
Buffy lies on the bed, her shirt torn open, Angelus positioned over her, and Spike runs towards them, knocking him off of her and sending the older vampire into the wall so hard that the plaster chips and he's covered in dried flakes of paint.  
  
He advances on the younger vampire who eyes Angelus warily. Spike swiftly side steps Angelus' punch and the older vampire hits the dirty floor. He plants a firm kick in Angelus' side, again and again until the older vampire is cowering on the floor, curled in a fetal position. Spike raises his foot for another kick and Angelus' hand shoots out and grabs it, sending Spike sprawling to the floor and now it's Angelus' turn to rip into Spike, and he does so not only with his fists but his words.   
  
His jeers bounce of the walls of the room and he's telling Spike how pathetic he is, how Buffy doesn't really love him, how he's a substitute for her like he was for Drusilla, how wet she was when he took her on her birthday, how she feels when she comes --  
  
And then he's flying across the room and Buffy is standing over him with the leg of a table.   
  
She hits him again and again and she doesn't even realize that she's crying tears of anger. She's shouting things at him and they don't make sense but the message and the depth of anger and desperation are clear in her voice. Angelus' pulls himself up against the wall and still she swings at him.   
  
There's the sickening sound of bones popping and flesh tearing and Spike makes no move to stop her. The Scoobies are standing in the doorway and they watch her with shocked faces, but they don't say anything either.  
  
Xander flinches every time the wood hits the vampire's skin.   
  
Finally, she plunges the stake through him and he falls to dust.   
  
There's the sickening sound of bones popping and flesh tearing and Spike makes no move to stop her. The Scoobies are standing in the doorway and they watch her with shocked faces, but they don't say anything either.  
  
Spike moves beside her and she turns her face into his chest, wetting his skin with her tears and he's kissing her and running his fingers through her hair and he just holds her and rocks her as she continues to sob. His cheeks are wet with his own tears as he stares at the ashes on the floor.  
  
"It's over, love. It's over."  
  
And slowly she calms down and Spike pulls her duster closed over her breasts, and continues to hold her. She sniffles and turns to look at him. Her voice is low and tired as she says, "I want to go home now."  
  
'Cater to the hollow   
  
Screaming feed me here   
  
Fill me up again   
  
Temporarily pacify this hungering' 


	16. Happiness

'Hey little sister what have you done   
  
Hey little sister who's the only one   
  
Hey little sister who's your superman   
  
Hey little sister who's the one you want   
  
Hey little sister shot gun'   
  
Buffy stands on the balcony, watching the throng of bodies go by. They're half-naked in the spring heat as they celebrate Mardi Gras, beer sloshing over breasts and stomachs and necks. Buffy laughs at the crowd and tosses down a few necklaces. Spike is beside her on the balcony and he's laughing too, even though she's sure that he's seen a million of them.   
  
But it's their first one together.   
  
She smiles at that thought, and knows that it won't be their last, that there'll be a lot more things to come. She turns to look at him again and watches as he throws the beads down to one girl who refuses to take off her shirt, despite the onlookers derision.  
  
"Always had a soft spot for the under dog", he says by way of explanation.   
  
His hand trails lazily across her exposed midriff and she blushes with desire. He gives her a knowing wink before leaning in closely, his mouth inches from hers, "You want to go to bed?"  
  
She smiles at the statement, leans in and whispers, "Yes."  
  
He kisses her and they move from the balcony, fumbling their way into the studio apartment and onto the bed. They kiss and fondle and tease each other to the point of insanity. Their tongues and lips and fingers and nails becoming master manipulators of their flesh.  
  
[ c e n s o r e d ]  
  
They whisper sweet-nothings to the air and their breaths intertwines in the darkness of the room. The shadows fade and he sucks on her earlobe, saying, "I love you."  
  
[ c e n s o r e d ]  
  
He collapses on her and lays there for a moment before rolling off of her and pulling her into his embrace. She lies there for a moment smiling at nothing, drowning in her happiness.   
  
'It's a nice day to start again   
  
It's a nice day for a white wedding   
  
It's a nice day to start again ...   
  
There is nothin' fair in this world   
  
There is nothin' safe in this world   
  
And there's nothin' sure in this world   
  
And there's nothin' pure in this world   
  
Look for something left in this world   
  
Start again   
  
Come on   
  
It's a nice day for a white wedding   
  
It's a nice day to start again' 


End file.
